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MILTON'S 


L'ALLEGRO    AND    IL    PENSEROSO 


ILLUSTRATED     WITH    ETCHINGS    ON    STEEL, 


BY  BIRKET  FOSTER. 


LONDON- 
W.  KENT  &  CO.  (Eate  D.  Bogue),  86,  FLEET  STREET. 


MDCCCLVIII. 


# 


,. 


&  % 


^ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


L'ALLEGRO. 


I.       Portrait  of  Milton  (from  the  Picture  by  Samuel  Cooper)     -  -      Title. 

This  Portrait  ivas  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Milton  s  daughter,  Deborah  ,• 
it  then  passed  into  the  hands  of  Br  William  Da-venant,  and  subsequently 
into  those  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

IX.       Find  out  some  uncouth  cell, 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night  raven  sings.  -----     Page  i 

IIT.  Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 

Jest,  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides.        -  2 

[y.       To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 

And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night, 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies.  -  3 

V.      Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow, 

And  at  my  window  bid  good  morrow, 
Through  the  sweet-brier  or  the  vine, 
Or  the  twisted  eglantine.  -  4 

YI„       Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn, 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn.  -  4 

VII.      Some  time  walking,  not  unseen, 

By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green.       -  5 

VIII.      While  the  ploughman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrow'd  land.  -  5 

IX,  And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blythe, 
And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 
And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale, 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale.  -  6 

X.      Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray.  -  7 

XI       Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast, 
The  labouring  clouds  do  often  restj 
Meadows  trim,  with  daisies  pied, 
Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide.  -  7 

XIT.     Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 

Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees.       -  8 

XIII.     Where,  perhaps,  some  beauty  lies, 

The  cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes.  -  2 

XIV.  Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 

From  between  two  aged  oaks, 
Where  Corydon  and  Thyisis  met, 
Are  at  their  savoury  dinner  set.  -  9 

XV,     And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 

With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves.  -  9 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

XVI.    And  the  jocund  rebecks  sound 

To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid 

Dancing  in  the  checker'd  shade  ; 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 

On  a  sunshine  holyday.  -  Page  io 

XVII.  Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale, 
With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
How  fairy  Mab  the  junkets  eat.  -  -  -  -  II 

XVIII.    Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 
In  weeds  of  peace,  high  triumphs  hold, 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes, 
Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
Of  wit  or  arms.  -  -  -  -  -  -  12 

XIX.    Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 

Married  to  immortal  verse.  -  -  -  -  -  13 


IL  PENSEROSO. 

XX.    But  hail,  thou  goddess  sage  and  holy, 

Hail,  divinest  Melancholy !  -  -  -  -  -  14 

XXT.    Thee,  bright-hair'd  Vesta,  long  of  yore, 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore  j 
Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 
He  met  her.  .-  -  -  -  -  -  15 

yXTT,    And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 

That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure.  -  -  -  16 

XXIII.  Thee,  chantress,  oft,  the  woods  among, 

I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song.  -  -  -  -  17 

XXIV.  And,  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen, 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 

To  behold  the  wandering  moon.  -  -  -  -  18 

XXV.  Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 

I  hear  the  far-off"  curfew  sound, 
Over  some  wide  water' d  shore.     -  -  -  -  -  19 

XXVI.  Or  let  my  lamp,  at  midnight  hour, 

Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear.  20 

XXVII.    Or  usher' d  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 

With  minute  drops  from  off  the  eaves.  21 

XXVIII.    And,  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  goddess,  bring, 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves.  22 

XXIX  But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloisters'  pale.  -  -  -  -  23 

XXX.  And  may  at  last  my  wean  age 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 
The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell.  -  -  -  -  24 


L' ALLEGRO. 


Hence,  loathed  Melancholy,  - 
Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  midnight  born, 
In  Stygian  cave  forlorn, 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy  ; 
Find  out  some  uncouth  cell, 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night  raven  sings  : 

There,  under  ebon  shades,  and  low-brow'd  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


But  come,  thou  goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  heaven  yclep'd  Euphrosyne, 
And,  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth  ; 
Whom  lovely  V  enus,  at  a  birth, 
With  two  sister  Graces  more, 
To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore  : 
Or  whether  (as  some  sages  sing) 
The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring. 
Zephyr,  with  Aurora  playing, 
As  he  met  her  once  a-Maying, 
There,  on  beds  of  violets  blue, 
And  fresh-blown  roses  wash'd  in  dew, 
FilPd  her  with  thee,  a  daughter  fair, 
So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 

Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest,  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips,  and  cranks,  and  wanton  wiles, 
Nods,  and  becks,  and  wreathed  smiles. 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek  ; 
Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 


' 


L  ALLEGRO. 

Come,  and  trip  it,  as  you  go, 

On  the  light  fantastic  toe  ; 

And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 

The  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 

And,  if  I  give  thee  honour  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew., 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 

In  unreproved  pleasures  free ; 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 

And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night, 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise  ; 


l'allegro. 


Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow, 
And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow, 
Through  the  sweet-brier  or  the  vine, 
Or  the  twisted  eglantine  : 
While  the  cock,  with  lively  din, 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin, 
And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door, 
Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before  : 
Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 
From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill, 
Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill ; 


■-&-A.  ^^WK-y..  -;.W4~ 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Some  time  walking,  not  unseen, 
By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green, 
Right  against  the  eastern  gate, 
Where  the  great  sun  begins  his  state, 
Robed  in  flames,  and  amber  light, 
The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight  \ 


L  ALLEGRO. 


While  the  ploughman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrow'd  land, 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe, 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale, 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures, 
Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures  ; 
Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  grey, 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray  ; 
Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 
The  labouring  clouds  do  often  rest ; 
Meadows  trim,  with  daisies  pied, 
Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide  ; 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees, 
Where,  perhaps,  some  beauty  lies, 
The  cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 
From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks, 
Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met, 
Are  at  their  savoury  dinner  set 
Of  herbs,  and  other  country  messes, 
Which  the  neat-handed  Phillis  dresses  ; 
And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 
With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves  ; 
Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 
To  the  tann'd  haycock  in  the  mead. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Sometimes,  with  secure  delight, 
The  upland  hamlets  will  invite, 
When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 
And  the  jocund  rebecks  sound 
To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid 
Dancing  in  the  checker'd  shade  ; 
And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 
On  a  sunshine  holyday, 
Till  the  live-long  daylight  fail  : 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale, 
With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
How  fairy  Mab  the  junkets  eat ; 
She  was  pinch'd,  and  pull'd,  she  said  ; 
And  he,  by  friar's  lantern  led, 
Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat 
To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 
When,  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 
His  shadowy  flail  hath  thresh'd  the  corn, 
That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end  ; 
Then  lies  him  down,  the  lubber  fiend, 
And,  stretch'd  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength  ; 
And,  crop-full,  out  of  doors  he  flings, 
Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 
Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 
By  whispering  winds  soon  lull'd  asleep. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


Tower'd  cities  please  us  then, 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 
In  weeds  of  peace,  high  triumphs  hold, 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
Of  wit  or  arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  grace,  whom  all  commend. 
There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 
In  saffron  robe,  with  taper  clear, 
And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 
With  mask  and  antique  pageantry  ; 
Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 
On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream. 
Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 
If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on, 
Or  sweetest  Shakspeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 


L  ALLEGRO. 


n 


And  ever,  against  eating  cares, 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 
Married  to  immortal  verse, 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 
In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony  ; 
That  Orpheus'  self  might  heave  his  head, 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heap'd  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 
Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 
His  half-regain'd  Eurydice. 
These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 


Hence,  vain  deluding  joys, 
The  brood  of  folly,  without  father  bred  ! 
How  little  you  bested, 

Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with  all  your  toys  ! 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain, 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
As  thick  and  numberless 
As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sun-beams, 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  train. 
But,  hail !  thou  goddess  sage  and  holy, 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy  ! 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


»s 


Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 

To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 

And,  therefore,  to  our  weaker  view, 

O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue  ; 

Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 

Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 

Or  that  starr'd  Ethiop  queen  that  strove 

To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 

The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended 

Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended  ; 

Thee,  bright-hair'd  Vesta,  long  of  yore 

To  solitary  Saturn  bore  j 

His  daughter  she  ;  in  Saturn's  reign 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain  : 

Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 

He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 

Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 

Whilst  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove. 


1L    PliNStROSO. 


16 


Come,  pensive  nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure, 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain, 
Flowing  with  majestic  train, 
And  sable  stole  of  cypress  lawn, 
Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 
Come,  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 
With  even  step,  and  musing  gait, 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 
Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes  : 
There,  held  in  holy  passion  still, 
Forget  thyself  to  marble,  till, 
With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast, 
Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast ; 
And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace  and  Quiet, 
Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  gods  doth  diet, 
And  hears  the  Muses,  in  a  ring, 
Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing  j 
And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 
That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure. 


• 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


17 


But  first,  and  chiefest,  with  thee  bring, 
Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing, 
Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne, 
The  cherub  Contemplation ; 
And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along, 
'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song, 
In  her  sweetest  saddest  plight, 
Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 
While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke, 
Gently  o'er  the  accustom'd  oak : 
Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy  ! 
Thee,  chantress,  oft,  the  woods  among, 
I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song  ; 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


18 


And,  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 
To  behold  the  wandering  moon, 
Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 
Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 
Through  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  way  ; 
And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 
Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


'9 


Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 
I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 
Over  some  wide  water'd  shore, 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar  : 
Or,  if  the  air  will  not  permit, 
Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom  : 
Far  from  all  resort  or  mirth, 
Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 
Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm, 
To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm. 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


Or  let  my  lamp,  at  midnight  hour," 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear, 
With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphere 
The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 
What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions  hold 
The  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 
Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook  : 
And  of  those  demons  that  are  found 
In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  underground, 
Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent, 
With  planet  or  with  element. 
Sometimes  let  gorgeous  Tragedy, 
In  sceptred  pall,  come  sweeping  by, 
Presenting  Thebes'  or  Pelops'  line, 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine  ; 
Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age 
Ennobled  hath  the  buskin'd  stage. 

But,  O,  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musaeus  from  his  bower  ! 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  hell  grant  what  love  did  seek  : 


IL    PENSEROSO.  2I 

Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 
Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 
That  own'd  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass  ; 
And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass, 
On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride  : 
And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 
In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 
Of  turneys,  and  of  trophies  hung, 
Of  forests,  and  enchantments  drear, 
Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 
Till  civil-suited  Morn  appear, 
Nor  tricked  and  frounced  as  she  was  wont 
With  the  Attic  boy  to  hunt, 
But  kercheft  in  a  comely  cloud, 
While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 
Or  usher'd  with  a  shower  still, 
When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 
Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 
With  minute  drops  from  off"  the  eaves, 


" 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


«5te 


And,  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 
His  flaring  beams,  me,  goddess,  bring 
To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 
And  shadows  brown,  that  Sylvan  loves, 
Of  pine,  or  monumental  oak, 
Where  the  rude  axe,  with  heaved  stroke, 
Was  never  heard  the  nymphs  to  daunt, 
Or  fright  them  from  their  hallow'd  haunt. 
There,  in  close  covert,  by  some  brook, 
Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 
Hide  me  from  day's  garish  eye, 
While  the  bee,  with  honied  thigh, 
That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 
And  the  waters  murmuring, 
With  such  consort  as  they  keep, 
Entice  the  dewy-feather'd  sleep  ; 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


*5 


And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 
Wave  at  his  wings  in  airy  stream 
Of  lively  portraiture  display'd, 
Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid. 
And,  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 
Above,  about,  or  underneath, 
Sent  by  some  spirit  to  mortals  good, 
Or  the  unseen  genius  of  the  wood. 
But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 
To  walk  the  studious  cloisters'  pale, 
And  love  the  high-embower'd  roof, 
With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light : 


IL    PENSEROSO. 


24 


There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 

To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 

In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 
Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 
The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 
Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell 
Of  every  star  that  heaven  doth  show, 
And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew  ; 
Till  old  experience  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give, 
And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


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